


Baze's Romance Novel

by veranda



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Crack, M/M, Mild Body Switch, Other, Post Movie, Soulmates, Tongue-in-cheek, Tropes, friends to soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9582488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veranda/pseuds/veranda
Summary: On Scarif, their mission is accomplished, at a terrible cost.  Chirrut realizes that death really is the beginning, and he should have asked more questions about Baze's book.The Force wants them to find their soulmates, Chirrut wants to get out of limbo, and Baze wants to remain In Denial.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 

Chirrut's mind was cloudy.  Baze had returned earlier that day from one of his off world jobs with a flask of strong booze.  Chirrut had been happy to share it, ever thankful and relieved to be reunited with his best friend.  Relieved, because although Baze assured him most the jobs were manual labor, he knew they were more violent than that; and thankful, because although they were close enough to call one another 'brother', there was always the chance that Baze would grow tired of looking after a blind man.

So now, Chirrut was drunk.  He decided the best way to clear his head was to pray.  Baze snorted at his invitation to join him and instead made for his bed.  Their quarters were not large, so Chirrut stayed in the main living area of their flat as far from the sleeping alcove as he could so as to not disturb Baze, who was usually exhausted after his jobs.  After two hours, he stood and made his way to his own bedroll.  Baze was still awake, judging by his breath, and was - Chirrut heard the swipe of a finger pad on a screen - reading.

"What are you reading?" Chirrut asked.

"Just an old text."

Chirrut cocked his head to the side.  "You've read this before, though, many times.  It seems to bring you a certain comfort."

Baze flushed but did not deny it.  He had stopped wondering many years ago how Chirrut could know these things.  "Yes, it's something I discovered during our time at the temple. It relaxes me."

A memory came to Chirrut, of being in the archives, passing his hands over some texts that had been translated to Braille, hearing muffled guffaws near him.  "I know that text.  The one no one would read to me?  I thought it was banned."

Baze shrugged.  "Well, it's an apocryphal text, I'm sure they didn't want to get you in trouble.  Or get in trouble themselves."

"I've studied many non-canon manuscripts.  They have their value, as I'm sure this one does since you've returned to it time and again."  He settled into his bedroll.  "Read it to me."

"You wouldn't like it."

"Why not?"

"It's not -.  It's just -.  You wouldn't like it," Baze repeated.

Chirrut knit his brow.  "At least tell me what it's about."

Baze closed his eyes and tried to think of any excuse to avoid answering.  Lying was not an option as that would only get Chirrut more riled up.  Finally, he sighed and reluctantly delivered a short summary.

"It is an account of one man's journey after dying, as told through visions given to an acolyte of the Whills."

"What is the afterlife he describes?  Like a heaven of sorts?"

"No, not afterlife.  It recounts his experience immediately after his death but before he arrives at any new destination.  He 'relives' certain moments in his life."

"Hmm," Chirrut said thoughtfully.  "It's well documented that one's life plays out in the moments before passing this plane.  That can't be what is so apocryphal about this text."

Baze clicked his tongue, again searching for words.  "I think it's the nature of how these moments are relived.  He claims they were, ehh, _altered_ , somewhat."

"How -"

"To help him," interrupted Baze.  "Help guide him to...identify...someone"

"Someone?  Why are you being so vague?"

"Ok, fine, fine!  _Soulmate_.  He relived certain moments of his life until he found his _soulmate_.  Until then, he was barred from passing into the next plane of existence."

Silence ensued.

Suddenly Chirrut burst into laughter.  "Is your favorite book a romance novel?  That's embarrassing.  You're right, it doesn't suit my tastes."  He caught his breath, but the smirk was still plastered across his face.  "Tell me one more thing, Baze.  Why do you always have the lotion nearby when you read this text?"

"Go to sleep, Chirrut," Baze mumbled.  This conversation was over.

  
\---

  
Chirrut didn't talk - or even think - about this again, likely to Baze's great relief.   Then, on Scarif, in that moment after the blast, this memory surfaced and replayed itself in detail just before Baze found him and the darkness came.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 1

 

 

Slowly, the darkness faded.

Familiar scents pervaded his nostrils, and the growing noise of the streets was an unexpected balm on the pain he was immersed in but a moment ago.  There was light, but his eyes could not define anything yet.  Casting his head around, there were shapes in varying shades but outlines were blurry and melded into one another.  He tried blinking a few times to no effect; instead he caught the murky presence of a figure some distance away, separate and distinct from other masses due to its consistency - bright, and undulating.  It was carrying with it a source of power so tangible he could almost _taste_ it.

"Would you trade that necklace for a glimpse of your future?" he found himself saying.

The figure pushed its way through the crowds and stood before him.  "How did you know I was wearing a necklace?"

Baze was struck dumb.  The words had left his lips before he was fully cognizant that he was the one uttering them.  The figure was _Jyn_ , the voice unmistakable.  Did she not know him?  He had so many questions for her - did she complete her mission?  What of their companions?  Where were they now?  It smelled and sounded like his home city, but he had seen Ni-Jedha demolished with his own eyes, eyes which must have been affected by the blast on Scarif.

The blast.  Oh.

There was no chance he survived that.  No one survives a grenade blow that originates mere feet from them.  Blinking his eyes more furiously, he tried willing them into service, again to no avail.

"Jyn, _come on_.  Let's go."  Spoken by a different voice.  Baze stood to stop them but a hand clapped his shoulder.  Instinctively, he knew that hand.

"Chirrut?  Is that you?" he managed to croak out.

"Yes, it's me."  Chirrut's voice was infused with as much bewilderment as his own.  "That was Jyn and the captain, I know it!  It was their voices."  Baze heard Chirrut gulp with great effort.  "Baze, we're back home.  The Holy City.  It's..." Another painful swallow.  "It's beautiful."

Something in his words, in the way he spoke them with such reverence, caused Baze to momentarily forget his own eye troubles.  "Chirrut, can you see?  Has your sight returned?"

"Yes, and it's more glorious than I remember.  And you!  Oh Baze.  Your hair, you, your..."  One hand touched Baze's face and the other stroked his head.  His eyes were sighted but old habits were difficult to break.  He sounded choked and tearful. "Oh Baze, when did we get so old?"

With those words, Baze suddenly felt lighter, and he embraced his friend as they laughed and laughed.

  
\---

  
They had died, of that Chirrut was certain.  Yet the Force had brought them back to Ni-Jedha, to the very second they first encountered Jyn Erso.  For what purpose he could not fathom, but thought it prudent to seek her out nonetheless - perhaps she or the captain had some insight into their current situation.

They were returned, but not exactly as before.  Chirrut's sight had been gifted back to him, but in a strange cosmic twist, Baze no longer had his. Baze, on his part, seemed unfazed by his disability, though he was never one to complain much.  In a way, Chirrut relished this role reversal, for this opportunity to care for his friend the way Baze had ever cared for him.  Sure, Baze complained endlessly about his praying, his sense of humor, his lack of restraint when faced with terrible odds - their friendship was unsentimental, born more of a shared upbringing and hatred of the empire than any common interests - but Chirrut knew that Baze had saved his life on many an occasion when it would have been easier to let him perish.  Few others would have done the same.  

When they found Jyn, she, Cassian and their gangly droid were being detained by Imperial soldiers.  Unthinking, as was his wont, Chirrut jumped into the fray, easily dispatching the storm troopers with only his staff as a weapon.  The consequent feeling of invigoration was short-lived, however; as he turned, another squadron of imperial troops rounded the corner.  He readied his staff, watched the soldiers fall, then heard a staccato burst of blaster fire - in that order.  Looking down, he saw his sleeve had a smoking hole in it, but luckily the flesh underneath was unmarred.

"You almost shot me!" he yelled indignantly.

"You're wel-"

"No, no, no. No. NO!! First rule anywhere, _everywhere_ : blind persons do _not_ fire blaster cannons!"

"Hypocritical, considering your light bow," retorted Baze.

Chirrut furiously gestured to his burnt sleeve.  "You hit my clothes - I have never come _close_ to doing that to anything I did not intend to.  Take off your blaster, give it to me now."

"You only _think_ you never hit anything accidentally.  Did you actually _see_ it? I think not.  Besides, your not screaming in pain, so-"

"Ok guys, calm down," Cassian interrupted.  He, Jyn, and K-2SO had walked over to where they stood arguing.  "We all need to remain calm, and figure out what the _fuck_ is going on here.  And Baze, I'm going to have to agree with Chirrut.  As impressive as that was, if you are blind now, you need to relinquish that weapon."

Baze stood taller and crossed his arms, a silent challenge to anyone who wanted to attempt to remove his weapon from him.  No one made a move, not even K-2, as he had calculated the odds of getting blasted by the angry blind man to be nearly 100%.  After waffling around Baze for another uncomfortable five minutes, they all gave up and turned to Jyn.

"What?  Why are you looking at me?"

Chirrut shrugged.  "We died on Scarif.  When we woke in this plane, it was the moment we met you, so logically you are the key."

"You're using _logic_?"  She stared at him, incredulous.  "I would say the same to you.  I died, right alongside Cassian.  Then suddenly I'm back here, asking you about my necklace.  You two spent your lives entwined with the Force - don't _you_ have any better idea of what is going on?"

They all fell quiet once again. 

"There is one thing that I recalled, before...the darkness.  A book - I never read it, though.  Baze has, several times," Chirrut started to say, hesitantly.

Baze shook his head.  "No, that was determined to be nonsense."

"It came to me as I perished.  It has meaning, whether or not the elders - or you - think so.  Just tell us what happens in the book, and we can decide if it is relevant."

"It is. Not. Relevant," Baze growled.  Everyone saw him finger the trigger of his blaster.

"Fine, then what now?" Jyn looked around. "We should get out of here before we're discovered amongst dozens of dead troopers.  Is there a coffee shop nearby?"

"A what shop?"

"Coffee shop.  Cafe.  Place where they serve espresso and tooth-chipping 'cookies'?  Never heard of one?" Jyn stopped and looked confused.   She rubbed at her forehead  and winced as her fingers hit a tender spot.  "Actually, nevermind, I don't know what I'm saying."

Cassian took charge. "K-2, go back to the ship and wait for my call.  The rest of us will go to Gerrera's compound and look for Bodhi.  That's how it played out, right?  We left Jedha with Bodhi."  Before anyone could agree or disagree, they were surrounded by hostile rebels, blasters aimed at them, ready to fire.

" _Hands in the air!_ " 

It was eerily on cue.

  
\---

  
The hoods were roughly pulled off their heads.  Chirrut blinked several times as his eyes refocused, still unused to actually seeing things.  He looked around and saw Cassian and Baze, but not Jyn.  He expected the three of them would be summarily tossed into a holding cell while she was interrogated by Saw.  They would argue, then they would discover Bodhi, escape, and Jedha City would be annihilated.  Would they be forced to endure that destruction again?  He would see it this time, the unfortunate caveat attached to his sight.  Or maybe they would simply be swallowed up by the rocky tidal wave they had only narrowly missed before.  Chirrut found himself dreading either scenario.

It was maddening, this situation. So close to their previous experience, yet not. Why? He thought of Baze's banned book, where the protagonist purportedly relived his life, albeit altered. In the back of the transport out of the city, Baze had staunchly refused to share the details of the book despite repeated pleas, insistent that it would not be of any help. Chirrut finally relented; he knew he was grasping at straws anyhow - it was likely completely unrelated.

"Strip!"

Chirrut was sure he misheard, and stood still until he was struck across the back of his skull with his own staff. 

"Are you deaf?  What kind of group is this, one can't see, another can't hear?  I said, strip!  Let's see what trinkets you are hiding.  These guns don't buy themselves!"

This was definitely not how this had happened.  Although he had long considered himself unashamed of his body, he was wary to reveal it, especially now that he could see everyone's reaction to it.  His fingers seemed to freeze at his sash.  After another blow to his head, he saw Cassian reluctantly begin removing his shirt.  Chirrut started to disrobe as well, hoping to get through the humiliation faster.  

Across from him, Baze was also dismayed by the order to strip.  He had knocked out one of their guards and was now being held by three of Saw's rebels while a fourth unzipped his flight suit.  As it came off, it became apparent why it took so many to subdue him.  The muscles on his chest were large, firm, and intimidating.  Chirrut was familiar with the sound of Baze's body, the height and weight of it, but he had never really appreciated the raw strength beneath the clothing.  Baze's torso was also uniformly tanned, which made Chirrut wonder when he found time to lay in the sun, or if his skin was that color everywhere. His mouth went dry and he openly stared as Baze's arms and legs were revealed, the last remnants of his suit harshly yanked over his hands and feet.  A sharp jab to Chirrut's side made him realize that he had stopped undressing himself.

Once Chirrut was down to his underwear, he was patted down slowly - and really, a bit too thoroughly considering they were unlikely to be hiding anything subcutaneously - then shoved into a cramped, cold cell.  Inside he found a bench hewn out of the rock wall and a blanket.  Baze and Cassian were also placed in individual cells, presumably with the same type of unforgiving bench and itchy blankets, clad in naught but their underclothes.  Mind reeling from this latest indignity, Chirrut sat on the bench, wrapped the blanket around him as best he could and began praying to re-center himself.  Ungrateful as it was, he was discomfited and resentful that he had to view it, the forced denuding of his friends.  Well, one friend in particular.  After an hour, he found he was still unsettled, snapshots of Baze's body persistently flashing in his brain.  

He slid his eyes around, saw no one. He heard Cassian in the cell next to him, breath indicating he was asleep. Chirrut tried focusing on something other than near naked bodies.  He willed himself to recall other events of the day, like how he felt seeing the city again.  Or seeing Baze's face, the new lines that formed around his eyes when he laughed.  The way his wild but soft hair would shake when he argued.  How his muscles tensed and flexed as he struggled against his captors, from his shoulders to his stomach, his thighs. That brown, brown skin all over.  The images assaulted him, pervaded his body, until Chirrut's hand crept down into his underwear to grasp and tug at himself. His breath hitched and his own muscles tensed as he felt a warm liquid jet through his fingers.

Then, all went black.


End file.
